Mention the words 'root canal' to most people in their 50s and older and you will hear terrible, TERRIBLE stories. Really horrible stuff. I want to hug my dad every time we share dental stories. I don't know why it had to be so bad back then, or why so many dentists were so mean, but I understand why there are sedation dentists now, and I think that's wonderful. Growing up, I knew that someday I'd probably have to have a root canal, and even though I had no idea what that really meant, it didn't seem that scary since nothing at the dentist ever had been. Sure enough, a month or so before Julia was born, I got my first root canal. The procedure went fine, but the scary part came afterward when I learned how much it cost since we didn't have dental insurance. I was "grateful" for the opportunity to have a dental credit line offered to me for the low, low price of expensive. My root canal cost me half as much as braces and I had one less real tooth! What?! Anyway, I soon had a new baby and 3 months later remembered to go get my permanent crown. :)
About a year and a half later, after the worst pain I've ever experienced, I had my second root canal. And my second bill in the amount of a used car-- in good condition! I don't remember exactly why we still didn't have dental insurance, but we didn't, and again, THAT was the worst part. The actual procedure was just a longer filling, with more time to do nothing but lay and rest in the chair while listening to adult contemporary pop music and fight the urge to sing along. I didn't have any problems, pain, or other unpleasant reactions. BUT... about 4 months later, my mouth felt weird and I wondered if it really had healed all the way. I called the office and they said sometimes it could take a while. Ok. I went on with my life and forgot about it.
Fast forward.... a lot... to about a month ago...
One of my coworkers went to the dentist for something and after he left, I suddenly heard a little voice in my head say, "Hey, member that root canal you were wondering about? How bout stop putting it off and go to the dentist?" I told the voice to shut up and went back to work. That voice had been bugging me for more than half a decade. God has such a sense of humor with me, because as it would happen, the dentist's office called me about 15 minutes later to schedule my girls' 6 month cleaning. The little voice in my head laughed. I hadn't gone all these years since we moved across town, but our new dentist is a friend, whose daughter was in my class a few years ago. The girls and Chris had gone, I knew I should too.
"While I have you on the phone," I told the dental assistant, "I think I should probably schedule a visit for myself. I haven't been to your office yet, but I've had a problem for... 7 years."
"Seven years?"
"Yes, it's a long story. Well, not really. We didn't have insurance, but we do now, so I can come whenever."
The next day, as I sat in the chair and talked with my dentist about why I put it off for so long, I realized how ridiculous, irresponsible, and un-grownuplike it was to have neglected a health issue for that length of time. Anyway, that was done and it was time to move forward. I needed a root canal repair-- or a surgical procedure I still can't pronounce and won't spell because I don't want you to google it (some things you can't un-know!)-- because I had a bone infection. It sounds worse that it felt, but I was just glad to be getting it addressed. It felt very responsible, albeit very much overdo. A few days later, I learned I wouldn't need the surgical procedure that shall not be named, and gleefully told my coworkers I was just getting "another root canal" which was "no big deal" and I would "be fine."
The day of said procedure, I reminded my friends what an easy procedure it would be and said goodbye with a big smile. "See you all in the morning!" I accidentally lied. I arrived at the endodontist and sat down to wait patiently and play Temple Run 2 on my iPad (because it's awesome and I can't stop). They called me back, I read a People magazine from a few weeks ago, went on Facebook a few times, and texted my mom to tell her how cool it was that I could text while waiting to get a root canal. Sometimes I still get impressed with all the places you can use technology. I got a few numbing shots, waited for my face to fall asleep, and took a pic. Not a flattering pic at all, but I was being silly before the "no big deal" procedure.
I'm going to leave out the details, they aren't important, and I wouldn't want to read other people's root canal details. Just imagine this as intermission or those color bars they used to put on tv when a station went off the air for the night.
When they finished an hour and a half later and I wasn't laying upside down anymore, we talked about what could be expected when the numbness wore off, and for the next few days. I was told to expect "intense, and at times, severe pain" which would require dedicated attention to a medication schedule (and missing sleep!) for the next few days. I also had to take a strong antibiotic around the clock for what seemed like 6 years (this would require missing sleep too!) to treat what was going on in my head. He told me that repairs like this are difficult to recover from, but I thought he was overstating it. Paying was painless since insurance is a blessing, and as I walked out, I contemplated whether or not to even fill the hydrocodone prescription.
What I should have done next was take pictures of my family-- their reactions to my "no big deal" were priceless. The girls kept trying to make me say words I couldn't pronounce and giggled so hard they couldn't breathe. Chris was fine til he heard the ominous warning of "intense, and at times, severe pain" and the next thing I knew, I was at Walgreens getting some medicine to make it through the night. What was he worried about? I was fine. Numb clear up to my eyeball, and confident that I would stay fine. Fine enough to take another ridiculous pic of my unresponsive left side.
You should really listen to doctors. And nurses. And moms who are nurses. They are smart and they know what they are talking about. When they tell you things are going to be rough and you need to work hard to manage your pain, they are not kidding. About 6 hours later, I understood exactly what "intense, and at times, severe" pain was. That's really not rocket science... what should I have expected after 7 years? My nightstand became a mini pharmacy, and I slept with a bag of chocolate covered mini pretzels next to me so I could eat one or five every time the stupid alarm clock went off. When I woke up the next day, I knew it would not-- could not-- include going to work. I talk at work. A lot. I smile at work. A lot. Those two things could not happen, and plus, all the medicine made it difficult to think. I slept most of the day, my dreams interrupted only by the rude alarm, and by that night, I thought the worst was over. I was eager to go to work the next day and move on from tooth drama.
The girls and I went to school as normal and my friends that know me best did just what I asked them to: not talk to me or make me laugh. Weird request, but they love me, so they did it. I did fine, but by the time I needed to answer the phones in the afternoon, I really wished I'd had a pre-recorded greeting to use. Or Victoria since we sound the same on the phone. The afternoon deteriorated quickly once I got home, but I don't really remember it! I was afraid I was going to be out of work again, but hoped that another faithful night of my meds schedule would straighten things out. Nope. I don't heal well or fast and there are a whole combination of reasons why. In the morning, while I composed what I hoped was a relatively coherent email explaining the set back (which apparently surprised no one but me) I had two thoughts: 1) I really didn't want this to happen, but it did; and 2) I couldn't have better people in my life.
I know a lot of people say that, and it can come off as trite and superficial, but it's true. I'm not being sappy or sentimental because that isn't me. The fact is, I did something stupid and put off dental work. Another fact is that, while not scared of dentists or dental procedures, I can be a bit of a worrier. We all have our thing, and that's mine. And while my natural tendency was to worry about what everyone would think, I felt peace that they all probably had a better understanding of what I was experiencing than I did! My family took care of themselves and me, and loved me in spite of being really weird and out of it, and my work friends sent get well wishes, rescheduled a meeting, brought my girls home, and didn't pile tons of papers on my desk! :)
My life is easier when I can make sense of it, and I will try and pull a lesson or example out of everything. It reinforces my focus on God's goodness and His faithfulness to me, and His "Big Picture" for my life. I shouldn't have waited so long to fix what could have turned out to be a very serious problem. I should have fixed it 7 years ago. It's not over, and I have part 2 of (hopefully) 2 next week. But because I didn't, I am in this place, with these people, in this time, and they are reflecting Jesus to me. Because this happened-- is still happening-- I am able to see how God is using this little puzzle piece to gently remind me of Himself. I haven't told my coworkers how much their kindness means to me, because I write things much more easily than I can say them. If they read this they'll know. Or if someone else reads this and tells them, they'll know. Was it hard? Yes. Worth taking pictures of? Yes. A good story? I hope so! Well timed? No, but then I wouldn't have learned anything or been able to blog about it.
The moral of the story is: Don't put things off, especially things involving teeth. It just makes it worse. But if you do, trust the ones that live your life with you and let them build you up. And take your medicine.
What experience has God used in your life that unexpectedly revealed His love and care for you?
Who has He put in your life to demonstrate His faithfulness?
No comments:
Post a Comment